nearly human
by FrancescaMilton
Summary: "She didn't look frightened or surprised: just disappointed. She told me not to blame myself, she said it was stupid of her to think she could change me. I agreed... and then I laughed." We all know how Sylvie's story ends. But how did it begin? This is the tragically inevitable tale of Sylvie and Hal, and their struggles to keep him human.
1. Sylvie's Prologue

**Sylvie's Prologue: The Invitation**

I first met him in Pendoughan, 1799, when my Uncle on my father's Welsh side of the family was preparing a ball to celebrate the turn of the century. I was sixteen, and all of the Pendoughan community were to be invited, from the richest to the poorest; though most of the residents of Pendoughan were in fact middle-class. It was me and my sister who would deliver these fancy invitations – elegantly designed, bordered in the finest gold leaf. Why anybody would reject them, I could not think. And, most of Pendoughan replied to these invites saying yes, they would indeed join us at with my Uncle the mayor, at Pendoughan Town Hall to enjoy a festive evening of food, dancing and celebration. But from one individual, we received a simple, straightforward, 'No, thank you.'

Who could this possibly be, the only person in all of Pendoughan to refuse such an undeniable invitation?

The answer I would soon find out:

It was Hal.


	2. Hal's Prologue

**Hal's Prologue: The Retreat**

Pendoughan was an insignificant, isolated town a few miles off the Welsh-English border. After having had a seventy year-long jaunt as my reverted self, the guilt was well overdue to start tearing everything apart. I could feel it skulking up on me like a thief in the night, urging me; taunting me to take back my mercy and compassion. But I would just laugh in its face; deny its existence and carry on feeding and killing; feeding and killing. But this massacre was bound to stop somewhere, as it always did.

So at a short juncture when the guilt was stronger than my heartlessness, I retreated to Pendoughan, away from the big cities which were my 'happy hunting grounds'. I boarded up the windows, locked myself in and let my internal battle rage inside the walls rather than out.

No-one disturbed me. Not once. I received no letters from any of my old friends, for I hadn't told them where I was. Only an invitation from the mayor of Pendoughan to go to an evening's celebration came through my door.

I'd picked it up, or rather _he_'d picked it up, finding this the perfect opportunity to get out and go on another murderous extravaganza. He was so close to writing _yes_, but I managed to stop him. I wrote no. And that was that.


	3. Sylvie's First Chapter

**Sylvie's First Chapter: The Recluse**

My uncle was a large man who was jolly and sincere, and loved by all of Pendoughan, which was rather convenient considering he was indeed the Mayor. He owned a medium-sized Manor, to the west of the town centre. It wasn't too grand on the outside, with plain mucky brown-coloured bricks and simple rectangular windows, but it was furbished with all of the bits and bobs he'd collected over his travels, resulting in an organised yet disarrayed concoction of colours and styles.

He did most entertaining in the drawing room, which was overlooked a long green stretch of lawn and a small fountain he'd had designed by an Italian artist whom he'd become close to years ago.

In the centre of the room was a table which consisted of a green-gold metal top with black Indian etchings drawn into it, resting on top of a collapsible wooden stand; the room overall had beautiful teal linen wallpaper from China, with pastel pink and cream birds hand-painted onto it, which fitted considerably well with the Chinese music box; similarly painted but with butterflies and black outlines.

There was a chez-long from France, with beautiful upholstery that matched the curtains; and mother rested on this. My sister sat on a rather uncomfortable wooden chair which was ornately carved out of old oak; my Uncle leant against the marble mantelpiece; and I… well, I was pacing.

"It's goddamned _rude_," I said decisively, trying to convince my uncle William and his sister; my mother, that my sister and I should visit Number 19, Arwell Avenue, in order to confront this unsociable anonymous resident who'd refused our polite request.

"Sylvie, _language_!" said my mother, who seemed to be rather preoccupied my chosen language as opposed to the meaning the words conveyed. "I shouldn't like to think you'd grow up to be so foul-mouthed." She sighed, fanning herself.

"The gentleman, or woman, has every right to decline, Sylvie. You know that – he or she might be otherwise engaged next week," reasoned William, with his sing-song accent which I always loved to hear.

"Well I should well hope he is a man. Such absurd behaviour is unlikely to be of a _woman's_ nature." My mother commented, lifting her chin.

"Does anyone even know who this person is? Surely someone must have seen them arriving. How long have they been there?" I ask, ignoring the others' remarks.

"Well," began Uncle William, moving from his place by the mantelpiece to take a seat, "I'm quite sure that it was Mr and Mrs Jenkins who were living there before, but that was… gosh that was…" he pinched his brow in concentration, "Around eighteen months ago now, I think."

"And, no-one has seen ever seen him? What, are they some kind of recluse? A madman… or madwoman?" I said, struggling to keep with the consideration that they might be either gender. It did seem quite unlike a lady's behaviour, as my mother had stated.

"Yes, Sylvie," said my sister, who'd until then remained to be quietly and amusedly listening to my attempts, "He is a ruthless psychotic madman who will chop you to pieces while you're sleeping!" she teased darkly.

I rolled my eyes. "You don't scare me, Cicikay. I'm not a child anymore."

Caroline, my sister, had just turned seventeen, and on her birthday was proposed to by her long-term admirer Mr John Kabronskawich, whom she accepted, and both my mother and father had agreed that it was a suitable match. I was fine with this; in fact I quite liked the idea of Kabronskawich being a brother-in-law of mine, for I had rather taken to him. The one downside to their pairing was that now Caroline had quite convinced herself that she was quite the woman, and that in comparison I was five years old again. But every time she teased me with her womanhood, I just reminded her how 'Caroline Claire Kabronskawich' was one of the silliest sounding names I'd ever heard of, and that seemed to shut her up nicely. I also changed my personal nickname for her, Cici, into Cicikay, to imitate her initials.

She sneered at my use of the name, then, but my logic was flawless and she declined to say anything else for the rest of the exchange; just continued with her needlework.

"I still think we ought to visit the individual." I said thoughtfully, my pacing having come to a slow halt. "Perhaps I can do so now!"

"Sylvie, I am sure he or she cares not to have you knocking on his door at his ungodly hour!" said mother miserably.

"It is four o'clock, mother." I said dully.

"But it will be dark soon!"

I laughed a little: "Yes, Mum! In around three hours it will!"

"Perhaps it won't be so bad that Sylvie goes;" contemplated my Uncle. "She is nearly sixteen, after all – well! She's practically a woman!"

I shot a small, triumphant grin at Caroline, who made a face in return.

"But it is so dangerous! They might be… thieves and pickpockets!" exclaimed mother.

"My, my!" said Uncle. "You may have been living in a city with your husband of recent, but this is _Pendoughan_! Nothing bad has ever happened here, Samantha, you know that!"

"Well!" said mother, beginning to get defensive. It was a quality I often saw in myself. "Don't say I didn't warn you, Syl!"

I smiled sweetly. "I would _never_ do that, mother." Then, I practically skipped out of the room; so happy that I had been granted this freedom. I felt like there was a light in me; a warm glow of energy radiating from my chest; spurring me onward to confront the mystery inhabitant of Number 19, Arwell Avenue – it was like a top-secret mission, or something.

Then my sister came into the hall.

"What exactly do you intend to say to this person, anyway?" she questioned patronisingly.

My mood flipped just like that. "Why do you have to stick your nose into everyone's business all of the time? Now that you're getting married to some Russian fella you think you have some kind of VIP pass into everybody else's heads! But really all it is, Cicikay, is that you're not even eighteen and you're getting married like a pregnant whore. Well, Cicikay? Is it a boy or a girl?" I goaded.

Her eyes flared dangerously with bitter loathing, and her whole body was stiffened. She didn't say a word, but slowly made her way up the marble staircase. I watched her go.

I heard my Uncle come into the hall behind me.

"Where has Caroline gone?" he asked levelly.

"To bed. She was tired."

He gave me a shrewd look, but I just repeated, "She was tired."

I then put on my bonnet; redingote, and exited the door, heading off to 19 Arwell Avenue.


	4. Hal's First Chapter

**Hal's First Chapter: The Old Friend**

I could feel the battle coming to a swift end. The monster inside of me was beginning to sulkily creep back into its cave for temporary hibernation, but he had certainly put up quite a fight. It was the guilt that allowed me to latch onto the surface, to let my good self – my better self – prevail and win. He knew that he was going to lose eventually, but he also knew that he would return sooner or later. It was this thought that he persevered to terrify me with.

Nevertheless, all human contact was far out of the question; or at least, I had planned it to be.

I knew exactly the date when it was I first saw her. It was the 10th December 1799, and at exactly quarter past four in the afternoon, there was a knock at my door.

I told myself that I would not answer it, but then my name was called, in a man's voice. But what horrified me most was that he did not use my real name…

"Oh, Lord Harry!" called a terrifyingly familiar voice.

I froze in my room. No… he can't have found me here! Not… not Fergus!

"Oh, Lord Harry… Hal… Henry… or whatever it is you like to be called!" he shouted.

"Excuse me, sir," said a young female voice.

I edged towards the boarded window, my heart pounding in my chest, faster than I ever knew it could.

"Why, hello there young lady," said Fergus with an obvious smile in his voice. His voice got louder then – he began talking to me. "You hear that, Hal? There's a lovely young lady out here." – The threat there was clear. He would kill the girl if I didn't come out.

I panicked, unable to decide what to do. I had come here to stop the killing, not to stand by and watch it happen! But if I went out there, I could kill her all the same.

Suddenly, the girl's voice sounded. It was sharper and more abrupt than before. "Sir, do you know who lives in here?"

"I do indeed. I'm sure he'd love to meet you – Hal! You'd better come down!" spoke Fergus.

That was it. I'd made my decision.

I rushed downstairs, and fumbled manically with the various locks I'd put on the door until I swung it open, and saw the two standing right there on the pathway.

The girl must have been in her mid-late teenage years, with large, widely-spaced grey eyes and dark blonde hair which was pinned back in a bun leaving a few curly strands just on her forehead under her bonnet. She wore an understated muslin dress beneath a high-waisted velvet redingote and carried a folded parasol in her hand. She was rather plain-looking, but really I wasn't looking at her. I was looking at Fergus, and he was looking very smug indeed.

"What are you _doing_ here?" I asked him in a low, unsteady voice.

"Just come to get my buddy back." He said with a smirk.

"I don't want to go back," I spat.

Fergus slowly turned to look at the girl. "This is who you're looking for, Hal? Such a gentleman." He said to her, getting closer.

She kept his gaze leaned away from him, her face hard and resolute.

I stepped out of the door, onto the pathway, my hand out in fear.

"Fergus. Leave her be." I warned.

Fergus straightened up and smiled. "I must –"

"Why did you ignore my uncle's invitation?" the girl reproached me.

Both Fergus and I just looked at her, amazed and incredulous.

"Well?" she asked.

My gaze flickered to Fergus, who seemed amused more than anything else.

I swallowed, and addressed the girl awkwardly: "I must apologise. I am not particularly fond of… socialising."

Fergus laughed loudly. "Well I know you as the life of the party!" He rested his hand on her shoulder, and I took another wary step forward. "He'll agree to your uncle's invitation; won't you Hal?"

I glared at him in hatred – there was nothing I could do! If I did not obey him he would for sure tear her throat out.

"I'll come." I said, my voice tight.

"Good." Said Fergus, looking once again very self-satisfied. He turned toward the girl. "I'm sorry, I believe we haven't been properly introduced. My name's Fergus." He held out his hand.

I watched in horror as she shook it, and replied, "Sylvie Kensington. Nice… to meet you." She said; her face unreadable.

"You don't suppose I'd be able to come to whatever it is that is happening?" he said politely, but with a sly smile.

Sylvie nodded. "Of course; it's a new years' celebration, at the town hall."

"Fantastic." He turned to me and waved. "See you there, buddy." He then left the path, through the garden gate, whistling all the way.

I observed after him as he went, almost completely forgetting that the girl was there.

"So it's Hal." She said.

After a moment, I nod wordlessly.

"How did you know that man?" she asked, curiosity glinting in her grey eyes.

"I… he was a friend of mine, once." I say uneasily.

She nodded slowly. "But not anymore."

I shook my head. "No. Not anymore."

She smiled a little, and said, "Don't worry, I won't get my uncle to invite him. And…" she grimaced, "You don't have to come either."

"No! You have to invite him now; he'll…" but I realised I'd said too much.

Her plain face was pulled into a frown. "I'll invite who I like." She said shortly. "And _he_ will _not_ be one of them. Good evening, Hal." She took a little bow, and walked abruptly off out of the front garden.

I stood there a little while after she'd left, thinking over some things.

If Fergus didn't get his way, he'd throw a fit.

And obviously, if she didn't get her way, she might do just the same thing.


	5. Sylvie's Second Chapter

**Sylvie's Second Chapter: The Killer**

Of course, the one time I decided to go to the mystery empty-seeming house that no-one had ever been to before supposedly, there was already someone standing right outside.

"…to be called!" I heard him say. He seemed to be shouting to the house; what an odd man!

I quietly opened the garden gate and stepped onto the pathway where the man stood.

If the man shouting at the house really was mad, I wasn't quite sure whether approaching him as the best idea.

"Excuse me, sir." I said from behind him.

The man turned around to look at me. He certainly did have a rather wild look in his eyes, but they were focused and determined; not mad. A slow grin stretched across his face.

"Why, hello there young lady," he said, and there was a note in his voice that set my teeth on edge. He turned to the house again, and called: "You hear that, Hal? There's a lovely young lady out here."

I didn't quite understand why I thought this, but I had the strangest impression that he was talking about me as if I was some kind of crème brûlée or cottage pie. It angered me, the way he spoke.

"Sir, do you know who lives in here?" I asked, my words pleasant but my tone hostile.

The man's grin widened further. He then… he winked! My rage bubbled inside me like a hot pool of lava. "I do indeed." Said the man. "I'm sure he'd love to meet you – Hal! You'd better come down!"

The man continued to stare expectantly up at the house, and I found myself looking at it too, intrigued as to what might happen. It was like waiting for the curtains to go up in a theatre before a performance.

And as if it was exactly what the man was waiting for, there was a frantic-sounding rattling noise from behind the front door. I stepped forward, and time seemed to slow a little, as we all waited for who would appear.

I don't know what I expected to see – perhaps an old, grey madman with a frowning face and grumpy eyes; perhaps… well, I had no clue.

But the wooden door swung open to reveal a young man with messy brown hair, hazel eyes and a very, _very_ worried expression.

I saw him swallow. "What are you doing here?"Hal said,his voice shaking. I took a breath: even though I had no idea what was going on, I wanted to go to him – comfort him.

"I don't want to go back!"he spat. I must have missed something the first man had said.

I felt the first slowly turn to look at me. "This is who you're looking for? Hal? _Such_ a gentleman." He mocked, getting closer. I couldn't help but meet his dark gaze.

The loathing that had been brewing inside of me was close to exploding. I tried to conceal it as much as I could.

"Fergus. Leave her be." I heard Hal's voice warn.

Fergus leaned away from me, smiling – obviously thinking up something else to say that would tip me over the edge. "I must –"

I'd had enough. "Why did you ignore my uncle's invitation?" I questioned this man named Hal.

He looked at me then, his scared eyes puzzled.

I waited. "Well?"

I waited some more. Then, for the first time, Hal spoke to me: "I must apologise. I am not particularly fond of…" he grimaced as he seemed to search the air for the right word. "Socialising." He concluded.

"Well I know you as the life of the party!" Fergus bellowed. I felt his filthy hand rest on my shoulder, and Hal stepped forward, his face contorted with anxiety. "He'll agree to your uncle's invitation; won't you Hal?"

The men stared at each other, as if having a silent conversation. After what seemed like much longer than just a moment, Hal replied, "I'll come." His tone made it absolutely clear that that was the very last thing he wanted to do. I began to feel terrible that I'd invited him at all.

"Good." chuckled Fergus, with an arrogant look on his face. "I'm sorry," he said to me, "I believe we haven't been properly introduced. My name's Fergus." He held out his hand to me.

I could tell that this polite façade was a cover for the obviously horrible person he truly was, but once again I attempted to hide my contempt, and shook his hand saying, "Sylvia Rochford. Nice…" – here I internally thought 'yeah, right'; "To meet you."

Then Fergus replied with the thing I'd been dreading the most: "You don't suppose I'd be able to come to whatever it is that is happening?" he said slyly.

I nodded sweetly, trying to make it obviously sarcastic. "Of course; it's a new years' celebration, at the town hall." Unfortunately Fergus did not understand my sarcasm.

"Fantastic." He wheeled round to face Hal, waving satirically. "See you there, _buddy_." Fergus then winked at me, turning to go down the path with a whistle.

Once I was done internally shouting all of the insults I could in my head, my attention was immediately drawn to look at Hal.

He was still watching the place where Fergus had left, gazing just past my right shoulder. His face seemed anxious still, but softer and relieved. He went from being an average-looking man to something nearly handsome just like that. I was quite lost as to how to proceed.

"So it's Hal." I decided to say.

His gaze met mine. He seemed to be deciding how to answer, as well. He nodded.

What else to say?

Then I remembered Fergus.

"How did you know that man?" I asked, wondering how such a nasty person could be acquainted with Hal – so shy and polite.

"I… he was a friend of mine, once." Hal replied.

'Once'. So, perhaps there was some kind of falling out? A disagreement? "But not anymore."

Hal shook his head, and for just a second there was a glint of pain in his eyes. "No. Not anymore."

I said, with a reassuring smile, "Don't worry, I won't get my uncle to invite him. And…" I paused, still feeling guilty about confronting him about the ball when he obviously really couldn't bear the thought of it, "You don't have to come either."

His eyes widened suddenly: "No! You have to invite him now; he'll…" He trailed off.

I was sure the discontent showed on my face. I was most certainly not going to invite Fergus."I'll invite who I like." I said with conviction. "And he will not be one of them. Good evening, Hal." I bowed, and made my way out of the garden, angered once again, and confused.

Why did he seem to think it was impossible for me to decline my invitation to Fergus now? Why was there a look of fear on his face when I suggested it?

Was Fergus… well, he was obviously a less than agreeable man, but could he… could he be dangerous? Was that what Hal was afraid of?

I decided that must be it. But I still wasn't sure as to how this man could be a threat. Was he a pickpocket like Mother had mentioned? Was he a fraudster, who'd try to con my uncle into making some kind of dishonest contract?

Or… could it be worse even? Could Fergus be a killer?

I tried not to think of such ideas. I knew I would try to avoid Fergus as much as possible, though, if he _was_ so dangerous. Hal, on the other hand, seemed quite the opposite – totally harmless. It struck me how odd it would be that two people so different could ever have been friends, even if not any longer.

I walked home at a loss for what to do. Who should or shouldn't I invite? I knew Hal didn't really want to go, and I should honour his wishes, of course. But a small voice in the back of my mind indicated how, if I wasn't to invite him (as he so wished), I may never see him again. The weaker, more selfish part of me stirred sadly and desperately at this thought. But I knew he may dislike me if I was to force him to go to such an event – perhaps then, he may wish to see me again. Perhaps we could meet in secret–

_Nonsense, Sylvie! _Another voice said sternly, _Why, you have only met him once! How foolish of you to be so sudden in your thinking. You hardly know the man._

And the voice continued to sneer: _And there is another thing. He is a man. A man would never concern himself with a foolish child._

But aloud I muttered, under my breath, "But I am not a child! Whatever my sister may say; I am just as grown up as her. I may marry a man right now, should I choose it." – to this last comment, I giggled a little. Then, a sudden image appeared in my mind: it was of me, dressed in an elegant silken gown, walking slowly down the aisle, towards Hal… my husband. _Hal and Sylvie – _the starry-eyed voice imagined contentedly.

The scene progressed on the pavement in front of me, and I entertained this deliciously secret thought until it got… carried away. But I was saved by a noise.

The noise was of a carriage grinding to a halt next to where I was dreamily walking. I suddenly became aware of the quickness of my breaths.

A timid voice suggested: _What if it is Fergus?_

But before I could reply to my own question, it was answered by a familiar call: "Why, Miss Sylvia Rochford!"

I turned towards the speaker with an elated (and relieved) grin: "John! It is you! What are you doing here?"

My sister's fiancée stepped out of the darkness of the carriage onto the pavement next to me, and we hug briefly. "I shall explain all, soon. Come, out of the cold – allow me to escort you to your Uncle's home."

I smiled in acceptance to his offer, and ascended into the empty compartment. "You come alone?" I noticed.

Kabronskawich leant forward confidentially. "I have come to surprise your sister."

"My sister?" I asked, solemnly, but of course he was – why else would he be here?

"Yes." Nodded Kabronskawich. "I feel obliged to assist your family with such grand affairs as a spectacular ball for the turn of the century, now that I am to be, soon, better connected with it. The family, I mean." He grins eagerly. "Myfather has to work through the winter, which I am sorry for, but it does mean I may do as I please."

"How wonderful!" I said.

"I am very much looking forward to spending time with Caroline - and you and your mother and uncle, of course." He added quickly. "William knows I am coming - we planned it in secret!"

"My devious uncle - and he never told me!" I exclaimed.

The carriage drew up to the front of the manor, and Kabronskawich escorted me down towards the front door, which the butler opened dutifully.

"Welcome back Miss Rochford," he said formally, "And welcome, Mr Kabronskawich."

"Thank you," both John and I said as we stepped inside.

I heard my mother's voice call from somewhere inside the house. "Sylvie! You're back! Goodness gracious I nearly fainted with worry! What if you'd have met... met a murderer, or something akin to that - and perhaps you might have -" Then she caught sight of John as she came down the stairs, and her manner changed entirely from a delirious flap to a calm welcome: "Mr Kabronskawich - what a pleasant surprise. Have you come to see my daughter Caroline? She would be so excited to see you. You will find this house very welcoming for your stay. You will be staying, I assume?"

John smiled. "Yes, I will. Thank you, Mrs Rochford, for your kind welcome." He went forward to kiss her hand. "Is Caroline about?"

"Yes, yes, she is upstairs. Caroline? Caroline, dear?" she called in a dreamy, soft voice, then when there was no reply, smiled apologetically at Kabronskawich, then turned back to the stairs and shrieked, "Caroline get down here now!"

There was a great rumble from above as heavy-footed steps clambered about. Then Cicikay appeared at the top of the stairs, frozen as she saw her fiancé looking up to her expectantly.

"John!" she exclaimed, her voice quivery. Then she floated down the stairs in a most graceful manner. Like mother like daughter, I thought.

Kabronskawich's face lit up at the sight of her.

They ran into each-other's fond embrace, and my mother pulled me over for a firm talking-to.

"Did you know about this?" she whispered urgently.

"No, of course not! I believe it was planned by he and Uncle William, not I." I said defensively.

"That devious... man!" she said in irritation.

"What is wrong with John being here? He has come to help us, and to see Cici, of course."

My mother swayed a little, and looked about at the walls and ceiling. "I don't know, I just wasn't expecting another visitor to the ball!"

"I'm sure Uncle has taken into consideration his being here, and made plans for the extra guest." I said reassuringly. Then a thought sprang guiltily into my mind. "I saw the man. The… recluse. His name is Hal."

Mother looked with wide eyes at me. "My dear Sylvia! Are you alright?"

I snorted amusedly. "Mum? I'm fine. Do I not look fine?"

She ignored me. "Well? Who is he?" Her tone then changed from worry to hurt pride. "And why on Earth would he ignore our invitation!?"

I sighed. "He is just a little unsociable, that is all."

My mother began to walk away in a huff, but turned back to me and exclaimed, "So he would rather stay at home than spend time with his community!"

I stuttered trying to think of something to defend him, but came up with nothing. Reluctantly I replied, "Y-yes."

Mother went off in the huff she'd began, tutting and muttering to herself. I watched after her, and then came to realise that I was alone in Uncle's grand entrance hall. I listened out for voices within the house, but heard none.

Dinner was swift and enjoyable, with Uncle William and Mr Kabronskawich laughing over their scheme. Caroline was quite obviously infatuated with John, gazing at him most of the meal. I sniggered at the couple's cloying romance, while my mother quietly scolded me for mocking her 'little baby' who was now 'all grown up and womanly'.

I went to bed well-fed and amused, but at the back of my mind was the ever-present hope that I would be able to see _him_ again.


End file.
